"You've got to get to the stage in life where going for it is more important than winning or losing."
- Arthur Ashe
“Bloody hell, Ron, why can’t you just get it through your thick skull already? I mean, you can’t possibly be that dense and obstinate?!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in aggravation.
“Maybe you’re the one that’s wrong, have you ever thought about that? I mean it is possible for you to be wrong, I know what a shock that must be for a self-righteous hag like you!” he glared at her, storming out of the common room in a huff.
“Bloody prick,” Hermione muttered as she let herself fall onto the couch, rubbing her temples in an attempt to sooth the oncoming migraine she always got from any form of communication with Ron.
“Hermione… I mean—you can’t really blame him,” Harry stumbled, trying to save his mate from having to further face the wrath of Hermione’s temper.
She raised her head, coldly glaring at him. “Are you saying that he was right when he said that dragons are easy to slay?! For Christ’s sake, his brother works with them, the berk should know by now that there’s an ancient magic that imbues their thick hides!”
“It started out as just a game, why did it have to blow up like this?”
“Because he’s an idiot,” she dryly responded with a smirk.
“He didn’t know that, so what? It doesn’t mean that you have to be so mean to him Hermione; we get it, you’re smarter, no need to throw it in our face now.”
“Hey mate, where were you off to?” Ron asked, clapping him on the back as he took a seat by him at the bar of the pub.
“Just thinking about something Hermione said to me before she left.”
“Well, at least she said something to you, all I got was an ‘I’m leaving to work for Healers without Borders and don’t you dare try to stop me.’ Love the bloody wench, but that doesn’t mean that she isn’t a stubborn annoying little thing at times,” Ron chuckled.
Harry smiled at the thought of her. “She’s a spitfire, it’s why she was the first girl we were ever really able to respect, you know that.”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “You know, I have to admit, I didn’t think I’d miss her this much. I mean, I love the chit, always have, but I never figured I’d actually be longing to have someone tell me to take my feet off the table, use a coaster, or read a book for once in my life so I don’t become stupider than I already am.”
Harry let out a bark of laughter. “I loved it when she said that last one, you always gave her this dumbfounded look; no matter how many times she said it, it always surprised you to hear it.”
Ron smiled at the memory. “She really kept us in line, didn’t she?”
Harry nodded solemnly. “Yeah, we probably would have failed out of Hogwarts if it wasn’t for her.”
“I miss her mate… I really miss her.”
“But we’ll see her again, it’s not like she dropped off the face of the earth,” Ron smiled, the fact that he was forcing himself to stay optimistic over the situation was plainly obvious, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.
“She’s in impoverished countries in Africa, I’d say that that’s pretty much the equivalent,” Harry dryly responded.
Ron’s shoulders sagged at the words. “It is, isn’t it?”
“Afraid so… wish it weren’t though.”
“Or that she at least went somewhere a bit more… first world.”
Harry smiled despite himself. “Or that.”
“She’s going to be okay though.”
He nodded. “I know, I just can’t help, but feel like I let her down.”
“Nonsense, you’re Harry Potter, in her eyes you can do no wrong.”
“I wish that was true,” he mumbled.
Ron eyed him quizzically at hearing those words. “What do you mean?”
He shook his head in a futile attempt to rid himself of the memory. “It’s nothing mate, just a conversation we had before she left, nothing important.”
“Sure sounds important to me, but if you don’t want to talk about it that’s okay, after twenty-one years I’ve finally learned to respect a person’s privacy.”
Harry snorted. “Glad to hear it, it’s about time.”
“Oi, now you sound like Hermione.”
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